Stairway to Heaven
by MeeLee
Summary: [COMPLETE] From a poor nameless orphan to the hero of the galaxy: the story of Han Solo, from beginning to end. [Non Expanded Universe.]
1. I

**A/N: **Hello! This is my first Star Wars fanfic and, as you might have guessed from the summary, it is my idea of Han's past and future. Now I will freely admit that I don't follow the Expanded Universe to any great extent, so I wasn't even aware that someone had already published an account of his past before I started writing this. So if you're a diehard fan of the Expanded Universe, please don't read this.

If you're still here, thanks. I've never worked with the Star Wars characters before, but there's a first time for everything, right? With that said, I'd really appreciate any concrit you'd have, seeing as it's my first romp in the SW fandom.

On to the story then. I'll update eventually.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Star Wars series or any of its characters.

**Stairway to Heaven**

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

Venor was one of the first planets in the rather isolated Noba system to be touched by civilization. Centuries ago, the rocky brown planet had been home to several ancient races that built primitive villages, hunting and gathering their food and believing they were the only intelligent life-forms in the universe. There isn't much known about the nature of these cultures, as the only information available comes from the rather unreliable tales told by the various ex-cons and pirates who occasionally used Venor as a refuge from law enforcement, and were fortunate enough to run into the timid peoples.

Eventually, though, the first permanent human settlers reached Venor in the form of mining companies, who quickly built small mining towns and set to work extracting the rich minerals from the rocky terrain. Mining towns blossomed into villages, villages into cities, cities into huge nations, and as more people—alien and humanoid alike—flooded onto Venor, those natives that had once ruled the planet were rudely brushed aside, exterminated else forced into slave labor. Little is known of where the remnants of these cultures are now.

Now swarming with cities and people, a key commercial center of the system if not the galaxy itself, Venor was a place of urban chaos and dubious legality. Many important commercial companies—Inter-Galactic Transports, Suube Private Construction, Tern Security II, to name a few—had their headquarters here, and day and night the enormous cities were alive with lights and chatter and traffic. Yet these cities were not without their vice, for in all the dark corners and shady pockets, even as officers patrolled the streets and commerce bustled, transfers and trades with varying degrees of illegality were conducted as a part of daily life.

Mudoc-Non was one of the smaller of the Venorian cities, and yet, being relatively new, was consequently more crowded. High-rise apartment buildings, their chambers designed to fit all form of alien and humanoid habitation, towered above the smaller chain stores, the business buildings, the simpler merchant booths, the worn but well-constructed streetways. Venorian summers had the distinct reputation of being unbearably hot during the day and freezing cold during the night, and this day was no exception.

The temperature was just beginning its drop into the coolness of evening when the doors to Mudoc-Non's single, tiny orphanage were thrown open and a small boy was unceremoniously shoved outside, stumbling slightly from the momentum.

"Eepta, kuro eschi doo!" a screechy voice shouted at him from the light inside the small building.

The boy turned at that, dark hair glowing softly in the light, even darker eyes glittering with fury. "Fine!" he yelled, his voice small and rebellious. "I never liked it here anyway!"

"Kee-tooda!" And the door slammed shut, locking the boy out in the darkness.

Nine-year-old Tidou took a moment to give the closed door one final glare before flinging a sizzling oath at it in classic Urbese. That finished, he turned, still grumbling to himself, wrapping his thin clothing more tightly about his tiny body as he walked slowly off into the dark of the city.

* * *

At thirty-four, Everin Solo knew he was in his prime.

Seated at the long bar in one of Mudoc-Non's many cantinas, watching the rest of his crew laughing and sharing drinks, the veteran Corellian pirate knew he was past the boyishness of his youth, but had enough fire to withstand the passiveness of middle-age. His days of immaturity were over, but sageness—and the grey hairs that came with it—were still a ways off. He was probably never going to become a better pirate than he was now.

Which was saying something, because Everin was quite possibly one of the best pirates in the business. He and his four-man (well, actually, three-man-and-one-woman) crew, along with their trusty ship, the _Celtic_, had just pulled off a job on the spice-mines of Gargon that would grant them bragging rights for the rest of their lives in the criminal community. And they had gotten away clean, too.

Well, not entirely, Everin mused as he took a sip from his drink, watching with passive interest as two of his male crewmen, Tootcha and Codi, discussed the advantages and disadvantages of guiding a ship through planetfall while under the influence. Tootcha was half-intoxicated already, and was burbling his argument—that your awareness was heightened and your reflexes honed, as long as you didn't drink _too_ much, anyway—in his native Hongian tongue, pincer-shaped hand—which had surprising dexterity despite its clumsy shape—snapped firmly around his cup. Tootcha was twice Everin's age, but seeing as his species had an average lifespan of three hundred years, in a relative way he was still very young. With his catfish-like whiskers, flapping gills, hard, dark red outer shell, and pincers, he looked very much like a huge lobster that had been hauled out of the water, shoved into pilot's clothing, and dumped unceremoniously into the cantina. Indeed, Hongians were aquatic creatures, though they were able to survive on land just fine—else Tootcha would never have made it on Everin's crew.

Codi Luoc, in the meantime, was arguing back in a calm and logical manner that seemed uncharacteristic of the Corellian that he was. He was thirty-two, had gone to flight school with Everin, and was what could be considered to be Everin's best friend. One hand was flopped lazily on the table next to his half-filled cup, while the other was resting lightly on the thigh of his wife, Leena.

Leena, the only woman on Everin's crew, was about as tough as Corellians could get. A sensuous, strong female of twenty-eight, she was like a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode if you pushed her buttons wrong. And one of her biggest but most dangerous buttons was being treated like a woman—by her definition, being coddled or pitied or protected in any way. In fact, had any other man had his hand on her like that, she would have snapped his wrist without a second thought. As it were, though, Leena had a soft spot for her husband that she would only admit—and grudgingly at that—under the most excruciating of pressures. So the hand stayed, and Leena leaned sweetly over Codi's shoulder to add a point to his argument, causing Tootcha to grunt in annoyance at being bested two to one.

Everin's fourth and last crewman was nowhere to be found, but that didn't worry the pirate. Eurik-Roon Sabasha, known to his fellow pirates simply as Roon, was the _Celtic_ crew's primary technical hand, and was at the moment back in the docking bay, working on repairing Everin's beloved ship. The savage dogfight that had resulted when they were escaping from Gargon had blown away one of the gun turrets and damaged the ship's hyperdrive, so Everin had chosen to take refuge on Venor for the time it took to make repairs. Under normal circumstances, he and his crew would be helping Roon, but having a large group scurrying around the city scavenging for weapon parts was sure to attract suspicion. Besides, Roon was a reliable man—or dwarf-man, Everin thought with a smile. He was sure to have the _Celtic_ back in working condition in a couple of days—that is, if his short, stubby arms could support the weight of the machinery.

Everin smiled softly and shook his head. Roon was a Sutti-Cha, a dwarfish race that originated somewhere in the Bespin system. People soon learned not to judge the little, four-foot-tall, miniature men by their size, however. Their mastery of technology was astounding; give a Sutti-Cha a glow-rod, it was said, and he could turn it into a fully-functioning blaster in less than five minutes, using only his spit and his hair as materials. Everin had never tested Roon like that, but he was pretty sure the Sutti-Cha could pull it off. So he had no worries about the _Celtic. _

It was at that moment that Everin felt something on the back of his belt stir ever so slightly. Taking a nonchalant sip from his cup, he sat carefully still, feeling for—yes, there it was again: a soft, experimental tug on the credit pouch tied to his hip. Everin made no reaction; he knew what was happening to him, and how to deal with it. Waiting patiently until the instant the pouch slipped off his belt, the Corellian spun with amazing speed in his chair, already reaching out with one hand, seizing the unfortunate culprit by the throat.

For an instant, but only an instant, Everin blinked and felt confused, wondering if he had gotten the wrong guy. What he saw in front of him was a little boy, perhaps no more than nine or ten years old, dark hair, dark eyes. His clothing was thin and tattered; a street boy for sure. There was fear in his eyes, and Everin almost let him go—until he noticed the credit pouch clutched in the boy's small hand.

Grinning, the Corellian pirate slowly rose to his feet; as he was, even by Corellian standards, a tall man, he lifted the boy right off his feet and into the air, suspended only by Everin's hand still locked around his throat. Behind him, the debate between Tootcha and Codi stopped as both men, plus Leena, turned to watch the spectacle with amusement.

"Well, hello there," Everin said, voice cheerful. "What's a little kid like you doing in a tough place like this?"

He wasn't holding the kid tightly at all, so the boy was able to reply relatively easily. "Nothing," he answered, though his tiny hands were prying desperately at Everin's fingers.

"Nothing?" the pirate repeated. "Certainly didn't _look_ like nothing to me. Looked like the most pathetic pickpocketing I'd ever experienced." Which was a lie, actually—had the boy been just a little more subtle, Everin might not have noticed the theft at all—but the rest of his crew laughed anyway.

The boy glared, eyes angry. "Let go of me."

"Sure, sure," Everin said, holding out a hand for the pouch, "As soon as you give that back to me…with a little extra, of course."

The boy's eyes narrowed almost to slits, and in the next instant he did something that no one expected but that people in the cantina talked about for days: he kicked Everin in the crotch as hard as he could.

The Corellian crumpled, and the boy tumbled to the floor, free at last from that iron grip. Turning, he bolted—not toward the exit, but toward two towering dark figures in the corner of the cantina.

"Why, that little…" Leena drew her blaster and started after the boy with Codi by her side as Tootcha helped Everin to his feet.

The boy, in the meantime, had reached the two figures and was wuffing and barking at them in a language that Everin recognized but did not comprehend. The two huge Wookiees in the corner looked up from their drinks, seeming to notice the commotion for the first time. Their eyes settled first on the boy, who was waving his arms and still barking, before focusing on Leena, Codi, Tootcha and Everin. Both of the huge humanoids suddenly roared and started toward the four pirates.

Everin didn't have to look twice to know they were in trouble. Leena, panicked, raised her blaster to shoot but Codi quickly grabbed her wrist, lowering it and shaking his head at her dangerously; no one picked a fight with a Wookiee, much less two of them, and won—not even with a blaster.

Everin tried not to focus on the burning pain in his lower regions as he turned to his crew and barked, "Everyone out _now!_"

Watching from the corner as the four rough-looking people turned and scrambled for the exit, followed closely by the two furious Wookiees, Tidou grinned and, clutching the credit pouch close, slipped out the back exit.

* * *

A little while later, after robbing two more people and swiping some grub off a third, Tidou was making his way merrily back to the little alleyway he called home, chewing on something warm and fried as he counted the credits he had "earned" that day. The two merchants he'd robbed had hardly anything in their pouches; a few hundred between them both, those cheapskates. But the man at the cantina—_his_ pouch was a winner.

"One-thousand-nine-hundred, two-thousand-fifty…" Tidou shook his head, marveling at his luck. "Two-thousand-sixty-fi—"

He rounded a corner and smashed face-first into something big. Falling back onto his rear, credits scattering into the dirt, he took a moment to clear his head before looking up—and up, into one of the scariest faces he had ever seen.

Karinic was a slave trader, and a good one. But he had the wounds that came with the business too: his face was lined with scars and burns, and one eye was completely gone, the empty socket covered with a battered black eyepatch. A long, jagged scar ran down from his right temple across his nose to the left corner of his mouth, curving it up slightly and giving him an eternal cruel smile.

At the moment, though, it was an intended and not an involuntary smile as Karinic looked down at the little boy below him. "Well, well, well," he said, "Looks like my luck is pretty good this evening."

Reaching forward, Tidou tried to grab one of the credits near the slave trader's feet, but Karinic's boot came up and crushed the thin metal disk—and almost got Tidou's fingers too. "Nah-ah-ah," Karinic said. "Runnin' into me was very rude, boy, and now you'll have to pay for it."

"Go to hell," was Tidou's immediate reply as he scraped at the scattered credits, trying to shove them back into the pouch and get away from there as fast as possible.

Karinic grinned. "No, I think it'll be you going there sooner than you think," he said, and motioned to the two men behind them. They came forward and seized the boy, shoving him back so that he stumbled into the far wall, crying out in pain upon the impact and falling to the floor.

Karinic's shadow fell over him. "Now you can make this easy or you can make it hard, boy," he said, "But think about what I'm offering you. A new life, boy. Sure, it's endless labor on some sad spice-farm, or maybe you'll end up doing sexual favors for some old pervert on Mossi, but that's a new life too." He laughed, and his two minions with him.

The laughter stopped as soon as they felt the cold of blaster muzzles fixed on the backs of their necks.

"You'd better quit that, or you won't have any life at all," warned a voice that Tidou recognized.

Four figures stepped out of the shadows behind Karinic, three of them with blasters still trained on the backs of the slave traders' heads. The remaining one stepped forward, and Tidou felt his blood run cold when he recognized the man he had robbed at the cantina. There was no way he was going to make it out of this alive.

His eyes fell on a blaster hooked on Karinic's waist, and he suddenly got a crazy idea.

Karinic, in the meantime, was smirking. "Whoever you are," he said, "You picked the wrong guy to mess with. _Eetopii!_"

Suddenly chaos erupted as Karinic's three lookouts descended, blasters drawn and firing. The four pirates responded just as fast, though, reflexes honed by years of dodging gunfire in battles just like this one, and for about ten seconds the air was filled with smoke and red and green blaster bolts.

When the smoke cleared, Karinic—along with all five of his men—were slumped on the floor, dead or well on their way to it. Tootcha was nursing a blaster wound on his left arm; his thick exoskeleton was too hard for the bolt to penetrate, but it did crack the shell, and it hurt enough to make Tootcha grumble a little. Leena tended the wound with her portable medical pack as Codi and Everin, a little dusty but otherwise unharmed, approached Tidou.

The boy had moved from his initial spot against the wall and was now huddled a couple of feet in front of it, shivering with fear as the two tall pirates approached. His fearful dark eyes darted from one man to the other, as if unsure of which was the bigger threat.

Everin stopped about three feet in front of the frightened boy, and slowly reached a hand toward him. "Now listen, kid—"

"St-Stay back!" Both pirates jumped when Tidou suddenly pulled a blaster out of nowhere—he had swiped it off of Karinic's belt during the confusion—and pointed it straight at the pirate captain. Cori drew his blaster at the same time, aiming it at the boy's head, preparing to fire—

"Hold on," Everin said, voice as calm as ever as he turned to shoot Codi a meaningful look. At first uncomprehending, the younger Corellian looked down at the weapon in Tidou's shaking hands and suddenly seemed to understand, lowering his blaster and putting it back in its holster.

Everin turned back to the boy. "Are you afraid?" His voice was soft, soothing, like a father's.

The boy swallowed hard and shook his head, though both Codi and Everin could hear the obvious tremor in his voice. "N-No."

Everin took a step forward; the boy _screamed_ and brought his weapon up, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes again, staring at the blaster in uncomprehending confusion. The weapon sat cheerfully in his hands, not working.

"You see, kid," Everin said, taking the blaster from the boy's trembling fingers and pressing a button near the top of the grip, "The trick is to switch the safety off first. Then you can fire it just fine." He did so, blowing a hole in the ground at the boy's feet, causing the child to yelp and scramble back against the wall.

"Of course," Everin continued, not missing a beat, "We never have that problem. See, we're so used to these sorts of things that we don't even bother turning the safety on in the first place. Be prepared and all that stuff." He paused, and smiled. "Which gives me an idea," he said, and paused to look down at the boy.

"I like you, kid," he said. "You've got spunk, and you're pretty tough. Plus you've got the balls to do insane things to get yourself out of trouble. That trick with the Wookiees, for example." He didn't mention the well-aimed kick; Tootcha still sniggered about that.

The boy was now shaking so hard that he could hardly keep his hold on the credit pouch in his tiny hands. "Wh-What do you want with me?" he asked, his voice a squeaky whisper.

"I'm offering you a chance at…what did that guy say? Oh yeah, 'a new life.' Except it's not rotting away in some slave business. No, kid. I'd like you to become a member of my crew."

Both Leena and Tootcha looked up to stare at him in dumbfounded astonishment; Codi hardly seemed surprised. Everin continued on in the same calm voice. "You've already got a head start in this stealing business," he said. "Only needs a little…_refinement_, is all. And I think you'll fit the role of a pirate quite nicely. So what do you say, kid?" He offered a hand to the boy. "You wanna join us, see the sights, blast some people apart?" He paused. "Or you could just stay here and continue pickpocketing unsuspecting old guys in smelly bars."

The boy watched him for a long time; Everin could see the surprise in his eyes. He had probably been expecting to be fried by the blaster in Everin's other hand, not to be offered this incredible opportunity. The two dark eyes flitted from Everin to Codi to Tootcha to Leena and finally back to Everin.

Then the boy reached slowly, hesitantly forward and took the offered hand, allowing Everin to pull him to his feet. When he spoke, his voice was a bit steadier. "Do you make lots of money?" he asked.

Everin laughed at that. "Sure do, kid," he said. "A hell of a lot more than what's in that pouch right now."

The boy looked down at the crumpled pouch in his hands, then back up at the pirate. "I'm not giving it back to you," he said, voice firm.

Everin just shrugged. "That's just pocket change compared to our accounts," he said, clapping the boy cheerfully on the shoulder. "So what's your name, kid?"

"Tidou."

Codi and Everin both paused in mid-stride. Leena and Tootcha looked up from their activities. A brief silence settled among the party.

Then suddenly all four pirates burst into laughter. Codi could hardly stay on his feet. Everin's face turned red. Leena screeched like a banshee, while Tootcha's face was contorted between pain and bone-splitting hilarity as he clutched the not-quite-mended wound in his arm, sucking in deep breaths as he tried to keep his deep, booming laughter from ripping the injury open.

When he finally regained the ability to breathe, Everin turned back to the confused Tidou. "You're not lying, kid?" he asked. "Your name really is Tidou?" The "Tidou" part never quite got out, overtaken by another hearty bout of laughter.

Tidou turned red with part anger and part embarrassment. "It was the only word I knew when I came to the orphanage, all right?" he snapped, hurt. "So everyone just called me that!"

Everin patted his shoulder as if to comfort him, but the pirate was still chuckling, blue eyes twinkling merrily as he looked down at Tidou. "Where'd you learn to speak Wookiee, kid?"

Tidou glared, still offended. "Don't remember."

The Corellian shook his head. "Well, you may've mastered Wookiee, but you sure as hell don't understand other languages," he said. "'Tidou' is a Corellian word. Do you know what it means?"

Very slowly, Tidou shook his head.

Codi grinned and spoke before his friend could. "It means 'asswipe,' kid," he said, and the four pirates began laughing again.

Tidou flushed. "It's not—"

"Yeah, I know, it's not your fault," Everin said, nodding, but still having to wipe tears from his eyes. "But it's funny as hell." He paused, partly to catch his breath and partly to think. "Well, I can't have anyone on my crew calling himself an asswipe," he said, "So I guess you're gonna need a new name."

"Okay," Tidou said, more than happy to be rid of this embarrassment.

"Let's see then," Everin said, thinking. "What would be a good name for you…"

At that moment, some monstrous creature in the distance roared. With the distortion of the echoes, it came out as a long, throaty "Haaa—nngghh."

Everin blinked, then smiled. "Okay, Han it is," he said. "Any problems, kid?"

Tidou considered for a moment before shaking his head. Everin straightened and nodded. "Fine, Han," he said. "I'm Everin Solo, captain of the _Celtic_. Welcome to my crew."

* * *

**A/N: **I can't help thinking that the confrontation between Karinic and Everin's crew turned out a little cliche, but I couldn't think of another way around it. Any suggestions?


	2. II

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long to update; I kind of forgot about this story. Anyway, yes, this is the second chapter, and there will be one more chapter after this one. There isn't much else to say, so enjoy!

**_STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN:_ CHAPTER II**

Sixteen-year-old Han was still slightly groggy from his nap, so he didn't see the shadow rounding the corner of his small room until it was too late.

It was like running into a brick wall, and the slim youth toppled backward, dazed, ears ringing so loudly that he at first wasn't able to hear the annoyed gargling sounds coming his way at the moment.

Blinking a bit and looking up, Han finally focused on the tall Hongian Tootcha, who was currently looking quite irritated, pincers snapping lightly as he continued lecturing Han on the disadvantages of not being alert. Getting to his feet, the young Corellian teenager rolled his eyes. "Can it, fishface," he said. "You've got eyes on the ends of stalks. You should've seen me coming."

Pushing past the tall lobster-like creature, he chuckled lightly at the sharp "Wrrugle!"—the equivalent of "Brat!"—that followed him, knowing that, despite it all, Tootcha was probably smiling. In the seven years that Han had spent aboard the pirate ship _Celtic_, all of her crew had developed a strange but nevertheless deep fondness of the boy's cheerful, sarcastic personality. Codi had once told him that he reminded them of Everin's more immature days.

_Codi._ Han frowned as he continued down the hallway.

In the forward passenger bay, Leena Luoc and Eurik-Roon Sabasha were engaged in a game of holo-chess. Even though Leena's sharp eyes were fixed attentively on the small monster-creatures projected onto the checkered board, one could easily see the tired slump of her shoulders, the weariness of her frame that not even her fiery Corellian spirit could quite conceal. She had taken quite an emotional beating these last couple of weeks.

Shaking his head and turning away from them, Han made his way into the cockpit of the _Celtic_. As expected, a tall figure was seated in the pilot's chair, fingers of one hand tapping lightly on the armrest, the other resting on the navigation controls. The hair on the figure had finally begun to gray, the hands to shake just slightly, but Everin Solo looked as strong and alert as ever as he continued to quietly navigate the pirate ship through the vast tunnel of hyperspace.

"How're things holding up?" Han asked as he slid into the co-pilot's chair. This chair was usually occupied by one Codi Luoc, and Han only occasionally filled in for him during emergencies. And seeing as Codi had been captured on their last job two weeks ago and had been promptly shipped off to the prison planet of Licheron to do slave labor, Han could justifiably consider this an emergency.

Everin smiled his seemingly endless grin. "Few more minutes before we exit hyperspace," he said, eyes never leaving the glowing tunnel around them. "After that, it's off to Licheron."

Han sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically small. "You think it'll work out, Skip?"

Everin turned to look at him for the first time. "Of course it'll work," he said, before clapping Han good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Come on, where's the Corellian in you, boy?"

Han grinned at that, but didn't have to answer. Only a few weeks after Han had joined up with Everin and his crew on Venor, the captain had run a complete genetic analysis on the small nine-year-old boy and, not much to his surprise, had discovered that Han was at least half, probably pure Corellian. It explained where the "tidou" had come from, at least. The incident still made the crew members chuckle, though Han was careful never to bring it up.

At that moment, Roon poked his dwarfish head into the cockpit. "Solo."

Both Han and Everin turned, though the sixteen-year-old almost immediately realized that the Sutti-Cha wasn't addressing him and turned back to the view-screens. Over the years he had come to see Everin as sort of a father figure, and had eventually taken on the captain's last name. This proved something of a problem for poor Roon, who was in the habit of addressing Everin as "Solo." But the little Sutti-Cha was working on turning "Solo" into "Captain," and there was a clear difference between Han and Everin there.

"Yes, Roon?" Everin said.

Roon could not help rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Eenbar can't open the weapons compartment," he said. "I can't reach it, Leena won't leave the holo-board because she thinks I'll switch pieces if she does, and you know how Tootcha can't handle the lock with those claws of his."

Han stood up. "I'll go," he said, exiting the cockpit.

Behind him, he heard Roon mutter, "He's such a klutz," to Everin. Han grinned. Eenbar was the newest crew member aboard the _Celtic_, having only arrived two years ago. His name was actually Een Bar, Bar being his family name, but like all Subins he was used to addressing others and himself by full name. Thus he only responded to "Een Bar," which eventually became one word: "Eenbar."

The Subin in question was, indeed, outside the weapons compartment, struggling with the locking mechanism. Han could not keep a smirk from making its way onto his face as he started forward and nudged the tall humanoid aside. "I'll do it," he said.

Eenbar nodded, stepping back and wiping sweat from his brow. He was entirely human in appearance except for his eyes, which were completely blue with slitted black pupils like a cat's; and his hands, which only had four fingers, all the same length and spread evenly around his palm to make up for the lack of opposable thumbs. His dark blue hair always looked oily and matted to his face, though Han and everyone else knew that it was just a natural substance that Subins secreted through their scalps. Still, that didn't make it any less gross.

It took Han all of five seconds to take his key and open the locking mechanism. Bars slid apart, beeps sounded, and the metal door slid aside to reveal a small compartment bristling with artillery of all origins, both human and alien.

Eenbar sighed. "Thanks, Han Solo," he said. "Don't know why I couldn't get the damn thing to open. I guess it just doesn't like me much."

_Neither do the rest of us_, Han thought, but kept it to himself. No one on the _Celtic_ had much affection for Eenbar; he was a nice person, yes, but he was clumsy and tended to botch things up if someone wasn't watching him very closely. In fact, Han had no idea why Everin had brought him along from Alderaan in the first place—until he had seen Eenbar's speeddraw. With everything else he was a klutz, but with a blaster Eenbar was quite possibly the most dangerous thing on the _Celtic_.

"Don't mention it," the teen answered cheerfully. "Everin says we'll be coming out of hyperspace soon; better strap yourself in."

Not waiting for Eenbar's reply, he headed into the passenger bay and said the same thing to Leena, Tootcha and Roon, who obeyed.

Reentering the cockpit and sliding into the co-pilot's seat again, Han turned to Everin. "Shields up?"

Everin grinned, preparing to bring the ship back to sublight speed. "Aren't they always?" It was a habit, coming out of hyperspace with deflectors up, that would stay with Han for life.

Reaching forward, Han flipped a number of switches and a low hum sounded as the _Celtic_'s deflector shields activated, wrapping the ship in a protective if invisible cocoon of energy. "Deflectors up, cloaking on."

"Cutting to sublight engines," Everin said, loudly enough for the rest of the crew back in the passenger bay to hear.

The glowing tunnel that had surrounded them for the last few hours faded away, and the small spacecraft lurched and rocked a bit as it returned to normal speed, normal time. Then Han and Everin could both see the red-grey of Licheron filling the view-screens, looming ominously like some great monster in the sky. A thick blanket of stormclouds had gathered in one corner of the planet, but in the parts that were not obscured both Solos could clearly see the jagged cracks of long canyons and the glowing lights of prison cities and labor camps. High above the atmosphere, large black shapes floated methodically about in orbit around the planet: guard ships.

But Han did not worry about them. Roon had installed a cloaking device on the _Celtic_ that made it invisible both visually and electronically to the guard ships, so they would be safe—as long as they didn't do anything stupid.

"Hang on, gang, prepare for planetfall," Everin said as he began guiding the ship into the planet's thick atmosphere. The trip down and the landing were a little bumpier than usual due to the thickness of the air and the strong winds, but under Han and Everin's expert guidance the _Celtic_ was soon resting quietly at the bottom of one of Licheron's many massive canyons.

Locking the ship's landing gear and shutting down all unnecessary systems, Everin took a minute to stretch in the pilot's chair before turning to Han and grinning. "Ready, kid?" he asked.

"About as ready as I'll ever be," Han answered, returning the smile, and together the two pirates exited the cockpit and made their way into the passenger bay where the rest of the crew was waiting expectantly.

Everin immediately turned to Leena, Roon and Tootcha. "You guys stay here and keep low," he said. "We'll be on frequency A-11. Keep the ship cloaked and don't send out any signals; only receive them. Might get messy if people discover we're here."

Tootcha nodded. Roon said, "Sure, S—Captain." Leena turned away in a futile attempt to conceal her shaking.

Eenbar stepped forward, holding two blasters he had gotten from the weapons compartment. "I modified them," he said. "Easier draw, quicker aim, also a silencer. Should help if things get hot."

Everin nodded, taking the blasters and handing one to Han. It felt slightly heavier, but Han figured it was the silencing mechanism and set his blaster into its holster.

"You two ready?" Everin asked, addressing both Han and Eenbar. "Remember, this is supposed to be a quiet, get-in get-out thing. We infiltrate, grab Codi, and leave as fast and as quietly as we can. No fancy tricks, got it?"

When all he got were two serious answering nods, he grinned. "Piece of cake," he said, and opened the hatch. Together the three pirates hurried into the night.

* * *

About an hour later, they were crouched in a small group outside a huge fortress. Han stared up at the gleaming metal walls with dismay. "It's so big," he whispered. "How're we supposed to find him in that?"

"Don't worry," Eenbar said, "Remember the info I got? I know which sector and cell Codi Luoc is being held in."

"I'm not worried about the location," Han muttered. "I'm worried about how we'll get there."

"We'll sweat the small stuff later," Everin said. "Right now, let's just worry about getting inside. According to Eenbar, the security gates reset themselves every six hours. They take five seconds to resort the data and become fully operational again, which means we have a window of five seconds to get inside."

"I say we just blast the damn thing," Han huffed.

Everin raised a finger. "It's a quiet job, remember. Fighting isn't always the key."

"It is most of the time," Han said, but offered no further argument.

"According to my information, the security gates unlock themselves when they reset," Eenbar said. "If we can squeeze through them in five seconds, we should be okay."

"And the sentries?" Everin asked.

"They should be at the other end of this compound at the moment."

"Okay. How much longer until the reset?"

"Thirty seconds."

"Great. Let's get moving." Together the three pirates hurried toward the gates, crouching behind discarded machinery and waiting.

"Remember, five seconds," Everin whispered under his breath.

Han bit his lip. "One of us isn't going to make it." _And I think it's gonna be me._

"You never know until you try," Everin said.

"Ten seconds."

"Let's go."

They scooted carefully across the clearing, watching for guards—but Eenbar was right. There were no sentries in sight, and they reached the gate with no problems.

"Four…three…two…"

With a sharp metallic clang, the thick metal gates sprang open about a foot. Eenbar immediately ducked inside. It was a bit of a squeeze for Everin, but he made it. And then it was Han's turn.

The sixteen-year-old quickly stepped through the opening, squeezing his small body through, feeling the cold of the metal against his back as he slipped fully inside. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, he was about to step forward to join Everin and Eenbar when something pulled back on his arm.

Turning, he was horrified to see that the sleeve of his thick pilot's jacket had caught on the gate's lock, and that his hand was still outside the gate; if the gate closed, he was probably going to get the whole thing chopped right off.

Instantly Everin was next to him, pulling and tugging at the caught sleeve as Han struggled desperately. "Hurry!" Eenbar hissed, and then suddenly Han heard a rip before Everin pulled him bodily inside, an instant before the gate slammed shut.

"Thanks," Han said, trying to catch his breath as he stared down at the long tear in his jacket. It was a small price to pay compared to what could have happened.

Everin didn't answer; looking up, Han frowned when he saw that the Corellian appeared to be deep in thought. "Skip?"

At that, the older man shook himself and smiled at Han. "It's nothing, don't worry," he said, and gestured to Eenbar who was waving frantically at them to hurry up. "Let's go." Han frowned, but followed obediently as they headed for the thick blast doors that guarded the entrance to the prison compound. Eenbar was already hard at work at the control panel, punching codes and connecting wires. Within a few seconds, the doors slid neatly apart, revealing an empty hallway beyond.

Eenbar grinned. "Am I good or what?"

Neither Han and Everin bothered to answer as they entered, following the Subin down the hallway, twisting and turning. The floor beneath them was cracked and worn by thousands of feet, and from inside every room, behind every locked door, cries and moans in a million different languages reached their ears. They encountered no guards.

After their third turn, Everin stopped. Both Eenbar and Han turned to him, and the young Corellian saw that the captain was fixing the Subin with a hard gaze. Eenbar seemed unperturbed. "What's wrong, Everin Solo?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Everin said, before turning and starting back down the hallway they had just come from. "I'll regroup with you guys later at Codi's cell."

"Wait a minute, Everin Solo!" Eenbar stepped forward, and Han tried to tell him not to raise his voice but the Subin ignored him. "We're supposed to stay together! You can't just—"

"I'm the captain and I give the orders here," Everin answered, not looking back. "Now go find Codi!" And he disappeared around the corner.

Han was left alone with the stunned Eenbar. Finally, though, the young Corellian laughed. "Guess age finally caught up with the old goon," he said, and beckoned to Eenbar. "C'mon, let's go."

He did not understand the worried, almost disappointed look on Eenbar's face, but dismissed it as the Subin nodded and led him further down the hallway.

They continued on like this down several more hallways and through several more turns, until finally Eenbar brought them to a stop before a thick metal door. "This is it," the Subin said.

"Codi's in there?" Han asked and, stepping up to the door, rapped his knuckles lightly on it. "Hey, Codi!" he whispered, "Can you hear me?" There was no reply from beyond.

"That won't work," Eenbar said, fiddling with the controls of the locking mechanism. "The walls are too thick; he wouldn't be able to hear you if you were screaming at him. Now let's see, just a little bit more—there."

The thick door slid open and Han rushed inside—only to find himself faced with at least a dozen gaping blaster muzzles. For a brief moment he staggered, feelings of surprise and shock and fear coursing through his brain before his reflexes kicked in and he drew his blaster, squeezing the trigger, prepared to bring as many of these people down with him as he could—

Nothing happened.

For a brief moment, Han found himself back on Venor, facing Everin, holding the unresponsive blaster in his hands. _Why won't it work—why—_

Then the cold, unmistakable feeling of a gun pressed to his temple brought him back to the present as Eenbar's voice said, "It's useless, Han Solo. That weapon will never fire another shot."

Suddenly, unlikely as it might have seemed to him before, Han knew. He didn't really understand the big picture, what was really happening right now, but he knew one thing: Eenbar had betrayed them.

Everin had once said that Han was willing to do insane things to get himself out of trouble. The man definitely wasn't wrong.

Spinning around, Han swung the useless blaster as hard as he could at Eenbar's head. The heavy hunk of metal glanced off the Subin's temple, causing him to fly to the floor, but Han wasn't done with him yet. The tall sixteen-year-old instantly launched himself at the traitor, beating at him with furious fists, screaming curses in several languages in his rage.

Then the guards advanced, raining blows on him with the butts of their weapons, hauling him off of his victim. Beaten, bloody and bruised, Han could only glare, struggling futilely against his captors as an equally beaten, bloody and bruised Eenbar rose unsteadily to his feet, wiping blood from his eye where it flowed from the deep cut in his temple.

"You pathetic little Mynock," the Subin hissed.

"Slimy son of a Rancor," Han shot right back.

"Enough of that." The new voice startled Han, who turned to see a tall officer, quite possibly the administrator of the facility, enter the room. The officer walked up to Eenbar. "Where is the other one?"

"Took a detour," Eenbar said, "but we'll find him."

"You'd better," the officer said, "Or you're only getting half the pay. I want Everin Solo."

"You'll never get him!" Han yelled. "You'll never—" He didn't get to finish, because at that moment one of the guards holding him chose to knee him viciously in the stomach, completely knocking out his wind and causing the teen to double over in pain.

The officer made a face at Han, as if he was looking at a piece of rotting garbage. "Get him out of here," he said, and turned and exited the room, followed by Eenbar who was still wiping the blood off his face.


	3. III

**A/N: **…And I forgot about this story again. Sorry! But here's the latest update, hastily posted while writing my final paper for my Celtic Studies class. Irish immigration, whoa.

This is the final chapter, and it's rather long so please bear with me. To those of you who have reviewed my story, you have my heartfelt thanks. Enjoy!

_**STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN: **_**CHAPTER III**

The thick door slid open, and all Han glimpsed of the room inside was darkness before he was brutally shoved into said darkness, losing his footing and tumbling unceremoniously across the cold metal floor.

Almost instantly he was on his feet again, though, cursing at the two guards in Corellian. But the uniformed men only laughed, closing the door behind them and enveloping Han in blackness.

It took a moment for Han's eyes to adjust to the light change, but he didn't need to see to know that he was now in a prison cell. They were on a prison planet; where else would they put a troublemaker like him?

"_Rey kudou!_" Han screamed at the closed door, just to make himself feel better. Then he sighed and sat down on the floor, checking to make sure no bones had been broken.

A low growl from the darkness instantly had him on his feet again. Peering into the blackness, he could just barely distinguish a pair of bright eyes gleaming at him from the dark. Oh great. He had a cellmate, and a dangerous one at that.

Backing up a little, Han quickly searched his surroundings for a weapon, but the room was too dark for him to see anything, and the guards had stripped him of all his gear. It was just him, and the monster.

His back hit the wall, and suddenly—he didn't know if he had hit something, or someone in the control room had flipped a switch—but bright lights overhead abruptly switched on. Han winced at the sudden intrusion of light, as did the Wookiee.

The Wookiee.

The Corellian blinked, staring up at the huge eight-foot-tall humanoid crouched at the other end of the small cell, covered from head to furry toe in thick, red-brown fur. When the Wookiee saw that Han was looking at it, it snarled viciously in his direction.

That boosted Han's confidence, and he took a step toward it. It snarled again, fur bristling, but it did not approach the teen. Han was not afraid, though. With his knowledge of the Wookiee language, he knew that Wookiees only snarled when they were afraid. Contrary to popular belief, they never snarled in anger. When a Wookiee was angry, he _roared._

When he was standing in the middle of the cell, just out of reach of those huge hairy paws, Han spoke. "I'm not gonna hurt you, big guy."

The Wookiee stared up at him with bright blue eyes, uncomprehending. Han sighed, remembering suddenly that the Wookiee probably didn't understand his language. Trying to draw from the darkest depths of his memory, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

The noise that came out of his mouth sounded like an overused engine, a squeaky half-roar, the sound a lai-rat might have made if it was stepped on. The Wookiee stared at him for a moment, then burst into roaring laughter.

Han flushed. "Oh, shut up!" he shouted to make himself heard above the humanoid's guffaws. "I haven't practiced in years, so—oh, just shut up, you big hairy oaf!"

The Wookiee calmed a little and wuffed at him.

Han shrugged. "Oh, I don't know, after I joined Everin's crew I sort of just stopped using it, and it…wait." He blinked at the Wookiee. "You can understand me?"

The shaggy head nodded, and Han smiled, plopping onto the floor. "Well, that makes things a whole lot easier," he said. "I'm Han Solo. What's your name?"

The Wookiee growled something.

Han blinked. "Shoebuckler?"

The Wookiee barked in annoyance, then repeated it slowly, pronouncing the syllables as precisely as he could. "Chew-bac-ca."

"Oh. Chewbacca, got it. Can I call you Chewie?"

The indignant bark that resulted was enough. "Fine, fine," Han said. "So how long've you been on this dump, Chewbacca?"

"UrrRAWrl."

"Ugh. Three months is a long time, especially here. They make you do work yet?"

Chewbacca shook his head, then made a questioning growl.

"Me?" Han said. "Well, I'm trying to get my friend out of this place. His name's Codi Luoc; he's co-pilot of the ship I'm on. Have you heard of him?"

The Wookiee shook his head, and Han sighed. "I don't think the rescue's going too well. That bastard Eenbar. He betrayed us, you see."

The Wookiee rumbled ominously deep in his throat.

"Yeah," Han said. "I'd like to beat him to a bloody pulp too." He turned back to Chewbacca. "So what'd you do to get yourself locked in here?"

When Chewbacca answered, Han burst out laughing despite the Wookiee's indignant—and a little embarrassed—barks. "I can't believe—_ha!_ That's pretty funny," Han said. "Well, it's you Wookiees' fault for not wearing more. 'Indecent exposure.' That's really something." He turned. "Y'know, when I was still a little kid on Venor, I was in this cantina when—"

A low groan sounded, echoing through the room and cutting Han off. He rose, as did his new Wookiee friend, both watching intently, ready to fight as the thick metal door slid open to reveal—

"Everin!" Han cried, running forward and hugging the man in a rare display of childishness.

Everin grinned softly, though his face was creased with worry and weariness. "Glad I found you, kid," he said. He was dressed in the uniform of a guard, and had an extra blaster in one hand which he gave to Han. "Here," he said. "I figured Eenbar did something to 'em, so here's one that actually works. Now—"

He jumped, stumbling back in surprise when he spotted Chewbacca for the first time, raising his blaster on instinct. "Son of a—"

"No, wait!" Han grabbed him, quickly guiding his gun arm down. "Don't worry," he said. "Chewbacca here's a nice guy. Right, Chewbacca?" The Wookiee wuffed in confirmation.

Han turned back to the captain. "Anyway, how'd you know Eenbar was playing us?"

Everin handed him a synth-skin cloth from the field medical pack. "Well, for one thing, we didn't run into any guards," he said, "which was very strange because Licheron is one of the most heavily-staffed of the prison planets. Then there was the security gate. Remember when Eenbar said it would only be open for five seconds?"

Han nodded, pressing the cloth to the more serious of his wounds, wincing slightly as the synth-skin chemicals mended the broken tissues. "What about it?"

"I was counting the seconds on instinct," Everin said. "When Eenbar got in, we had four seconds. When I got in, we had one. The gate should've closed before you even set foot inside there, but it didn't. It stayed open, even after you got your sleeve snagged, and only closed right after I pulled you inside, which led me to one conclusion." When Han blinked, Everin frowned. "Someone had to have been watching us, and let us inside," he said. "Whoever-it-was held the gate open for you, then closed it as soon as you got in." He paused. "That made me suspicious, and I began to think there was a mole in our crew somewhere. Eenbar was the newest, and also an easily-bribed Subin, so I figured it had to be him.

"That's when I separated from you two. I knew that if I took you with me and let Eenbar go on alone, he would get suspicious, so I had to leave you. I started following you two after you continued on, and I was going to clip Eenbar outside that door, but I couldn't get a clear shot before he got it open. And I couldn't risk a shootout with all those guards." He paused, and grinned. "That was a nice hit you got on Eenbar though, with that blaster."

He shrugged. "Anyway, after that I just tailed you and those guards to this cell. Took me a little while to get it open, but here I am."

Han nodded, tossing the synth-skin cloth away and gripping the blaster firmly. "Do you know where Codi really is then?"

"Fortunately for us," Everin said with a grin, "all the guards carry portable view-screens that project the precise location of every prisoner in the compound, updated every ten seconds." He removed a thin rectangular device from his belt and switched it on. Instantly the previously dark screen became alive with a green grid and glowing yellow and red dots that represented the prisoners and guards.

Han had to search for a moment, but he soon spotted the yellow dot that represented Codi Luoc. "Looks like he's just sitting in his cell."

"Probably lying unconscious is more like it," Everin said darkly, putting the view-screen away. "Come on then."

But Han didn't move; Everin saw that the sixteen-year-old was looking back at the cell—no, at the Wookiee standing inside the cell. Chewbacca just stood there, an eight-foot-tall mass of hair, watching the two Corellians with forlorn blue eyes.

"Sorry, Chewbacca," Han said, "But you can't come with us. We're going deeper _into_ the compound, not out of it."

Everin nodded, stepping forward and pointing down the dark hallway. "The exit's that way," he said. "Just stay clear of the guards, and hide out near the security gate until the system resets again. Then you have five seconds to get through it." Though he doubted the Wookiee would be able to squeeze his huge frame through the foot-wide gap, Everin was not about to voice his doubts.

Chewbacca gazed at the two humans, cocking his head slightly as he slowly stepped forward and out of the cell that he probably hadn't seen the outside of for three months. Turning, he wuffed softly. Everin turned to Han.

"He's saying thanks," Han translated, and then turned to the Wookiee.

"Take care," he said, "And don't get into trouble…Chewie." Ignoring the bark that was only half-indignant and held a certain degree of affection, Han and Everin turned and hurried in the opposite direction.

* * *

They reached Codi's cell with relatively few problems, and as Han pushed the bodies of the guards they had quietly killed into a nearby wall closet, Everin took a moment to fiddle with the lock. Then, while the sixteen-year-old stood guard with blaster in hand, the older Corellian finally managed to unlock the door, which slid smoothly open.

As promised, Codi Luoc was sprawled on the floor inside. The _Celtic_'s co-pilot had never looked worse, Han thought as he stared at the numerous cuts and bruises decorating Codi's body, the pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, the sunken cheekbones. He looked half-starved and ready to die.

Then Everin was inside, gently shaking the beaten man. At first Codi didn't respond, but soon he began to stir, groaning softly as he came fully awake and blinked up at his captain through swollen eyelids. "Everin…?"

"Yeah," Everin said, barely able to conceal the emotion in his voice. "I'm here to get you out. Han's with me."

"Han?" Codi raised himself up high enough to see the young teen standing just outside the doorway. Han turned and waved at him; Codi managed a smile. "Hey, kid." He turned back to Everin then. "What took you guys so long?"

"Had a little delay," Everin said, helping Codi to his feet and draping an alarmingly thin arm over his shoulder, "by the name of Eenbar."

"Screwed up again?" Codi asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Nope," Everin said. "He actually managed to pull this one off pretty good. Had us all fooled."

Codi blinked. "Wait, you mean…"

"Yeah," Han said, stepping aside to allow Everin and Codi into the hallway. "Eenbar's a traitorous bastard and I'm going to fry his balls first chance I get."

Codi winced as he limped along on his one good leg. "You think he had anything to do with my capture?"

"Wouldn't put it past him," Everin said.

His friend nodded. "In that case, while Han fries his balls, I'm frying the rest of him."

Everin chuckled, then grew stern. "We have to get to the exit," he said, addressing more Han than Codi. "And we have to do it quietly, since everyone in the entire compound is probably looking for me. So don't go blasting everything that moves, you hear?"

The tone he used was one he only reserved for the gravest of situations, so Han knew better than to make a crack. "Yes, Skip," he said simply.

"Good." Allowing Codi to rest more of his weight on his shoulder, Everin nodded at Han. "Follow me."

It took an excruciatingly long time for them to reach the exit, carefully shirking groups of guards while simultaneously hauling Codi's near dead-weight. The exit door was located at the opposite end of a rather small garage loaded with patrol skiffs and hover-bikes, and it was here in a shadowed corner of the garage that Everin brought the little group to a halt.

"I think this guard's key can open that door," Everin mused, fingering the little card, "but I can't be sure. Better let me go first. You two keep hidden and wait for my signal." Han and Codi nodded, and Everin carefully transferred his injured friend to the young Corellian.

Gently lowering Codi to the ground, Han handed him a blaster they had gotten from one of the guards they had killed outside his cell. He looked up at Everin then, suddenly wanting to say something to the older man, but unable to form the words. They didn't know what was beyond that door; it could be a trap, whereas Everin would likely be the first to fall into it. Finally, Han settled for a simple "Be careful, Skip."

Everin looked at him for a long moment, dark eyes glittering with something like love, before his face returned to its usual smiling mask. "No worries, kid," he said, giving them a mock salute as he started across the garage, helmet pulled down to disguise himself completely as a guard doing regular patrol rounds.

He got to the exit door just fine, as the guards patrolling the garage were currently changing shifts. Han and Codi watched, both holding their breaths, as Everin slid the key into its slot.

The door slid open—and Han almost screamed.

He had half a second to glimpse the smirking face of Eenbar before something exploded, and then Everin was stumbling backward, smoke pouring from the blaster wound in his chest, arms flailing as if grasping for one final lifeline that wasn't there.

He was dead before his body hit the ground.

Then Han really was screaming, though he was only half-aware that the animal-like cry was his own as he sprang up from his hiding position, abandoning Codi—indeed, forgetting him completely as he sprinted across the garage, blaster up. But Eenbar had always been the faster draw, and he already had his weapon drawn and ready to fire, aimed straight at Han's head. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger and—

A huge roar suddenly drowned out Han's scream, coming from behind Eenbar and his troupe of six soldiers. The Subin froze, completely paralyzed by the magnitude and closeness of the sound, and that was his fatal mistake—in the next instant, a huge Wookiee fist smashed down onto his head, flattening him easily.

Han hardly registered Chewbacca's form as he opened fire on the remaining soldiers, taking two down while the enraged Wookiee threw a third into a nearby wall with bone-crunching ferocity. The remaining three soldiers raised their blasters, but one of them went down almost instantly, smoking at the torso—hobbling along behind Han, unable to move much of the rest of his body but sure as hell able to operate his hands, Codi Luoc was taking revenge for his old friend as well.

Then Han was there, firing point-blank at one of the guard's faces so that his head exploded. The single surviving soldier panicked and tried to run, but was promptly cuffed hard in the head by Chewbacca's massive fist and went spinning into the darkness, never to rise again.

Han had already dropped his blaster and was crouched over Everin's motionless body. The helmet had slipped off when the Corellian captain fell, so that the young teenager could see those blue eyes, once twinkling merrily with so many secrets, now empty and dead. Not knowing what to do, and really still only a child, Han clutched the lifeless Everin to his chest and began to sob.

Codi finally managed to reach them, not paying the Wookiee much heed as he fell to his knees, exhausted, beside Han and tried to pry the boy away from the dead Corellian. "There's nothing more you can do!" Codi hissed, though his eyes shone with tears as well. "He's gone, Han. We have to get out of here before more guards arrive."

But Han stubbornly shook his head and held Everin even more tightly. Codi grimaced, eyes darting frantically around as he searched the empty garage for troops that were sure to start pouring in at any second. "Han, please!"

The youth didn't even seem to hear him, but the Wookiee solved that problem. With a low growl, the tall humanoid bent down and swept Codi up with one arm and Han up with the other.

The younger Corellian shrieked at that and began to struggle, kicking and clawing at the Wookiee, but Chewbacca hardly felt it as he straightened and headed for the exit door, which was still open. Codi was yelling at Han, Han was yelling at Chewbacca, and Chewbacca just calmly made his way toward the security gate, carrying his screaming load. While the two humans had been busy getting their friend out of their cell, Chewbacca had indeed reached the exit. He'd knocked out a guard and stolen his card, thus exiting the compound. Then he'd promptly broken into the security tower and deactivated that section of the gate, and after that, he had waited. Waited for the young human who understood him, who befriended him, who called him "Chewie" because he knew it annoyed him. Waited, because he had nowhere else to go.

Turning to the more responsive of the humans, the one who had been a prisoner here, Chewbacca barked a question at him. Codi turned, blinking uncomprehendingly, before shrugging as much as his current position would allow. "If you're asking where to go, I have no idea," he said. "Only Han knows. Or Everin, but he can't tell us anymore." And he grew solemnly quiet.

Han's protests only seemed to get louder as they approached the security gate. Chewbacca kicked it open and plunged into the darkness, running as fast as his long legs would let him—which was pretty fast. Several minutes of this random running passed before Han's screams finally began to die down until eventually they disappeared altogether. A few minutes later, he spoke in a soft, raspy voice.

"You're going the wrong way, Chewbacca."

The Wookiee stopped, massive chest heaving for a moment as he caught his breath. Then he turned to the Corellian with a questioning _Urrrr?_

Han sighed, a sigh of exhaustion. "Let me down and I'll lead you to our ship, okay?"

"RrraWWr."

"No," Han said, "I promise I won't go running back toward the prison. There's nothing left there anyway."

That was good enough for Chewbacca, who gently lowered the boy to the ground. Han took a moment to stand there, staring longingly back in the direction of the prison compound, where a laughing, cheerful pirate, as close to a father as Han could ever get, now lay forever sleeping.

Then the teen turned to Chewbacca. "Follow me," he said, and jogged in the direction of a nearby canyon.

It was another half-hour before they finally reached the _Celtic_, sitting silent and still at the bottom of the canyon. But when he reached the ship, Han paused for a moment, uncertain. The guards had taken his comlink, and Everin had given the remaining crew specific instructions not to respond to anything except something on frequency—

Chewbacca roared, the sound echoing down the canyon, loud enough to make Han jump and Codi curse. Instantly one of the _Celtic_'s gun turrets swiveled around to focus on them, and Han had a brief moment of panic when he envisioned being ripped to pieces by his own ship—when there came a muffled cry from inside the ship and the ramp rolled down, Leena Luoc rushing down it.

She stopped at the bottom of the ramp, blaster up and aimed straight at Chewbacca. "Let go of my husband, you big _einin!_" she nearly screeched.

Han wearily stepped in. "It's okay, Leena," he said. "Chewbacca here is a friend. I met him in the compound. He helped break us out."

As if to prove his point, Chewbacca bent down and gently released Codi, who stumbled forward into the arms of his wife. Leena was sobbing; not even her Corellian toughness could hide her relief and happiness at seeing her husband alive.

Tootcha and Roon were next down the ramp, both giving the Wookiee a wide berth as they approached Han. Tootcha was already peering into the darkness behind the youth. He gargled a question in Hongian.

Han's shoulders slumped and his eyes dropped to look down at his dusty boots. "Everin didn't make it," he said. "Eenbar betrayed us all, and killed him."

There was a moment of silence as even Leena stopped her sobbing to take in the news. Then Roon cursed furiously, turned and bolted back up the ramp, presumably to scream and throw things. Leena buried her face in her husband's shoulder and it became Codi comforting Leena instead of the other way around.

Tootcha just sighed, a long whoosh of air through his thin nostrils that seemed to deflate his entire frame, a sound full of sadness and regret. His eyestalks drooped and his tail sagged as he slowly began burbling an old Hongian folk prayer for Everin Solo's soul.

Very slowly, the weary crew of the _Celtic_, captain-less and leader-less, broken and betrayed, turned to trudge up the boarding ramp one by one. Han stopped at the bottom of the ramp, though, and turned.

Chewbacca was still there, standing just outside the glowing halo of light generated by the illumination from the _Celtic_. The Wookiee was watching him quietly and was rocking a bit from side to side, as if he wanted to say something to Han but was unsure of whether or not to do so.

Han sighed, knowing what the Wookiee wanted. He didn't know what the rest of the crew would think about the decision he was about to make, but at the moment he found that he didn't really care. He had been through too much that evening to really care about anything anymore.

"You could come with us," the young Corellian said, causing Chewbacca to blink. "We're short a couple of crew members…could use someone like you."

The Wookiee shifted from foot to foot, making a low, slightly embarrassed growl.

Han smiled wearily. "Don't worry about it," he said. "It's a natural reaction for people like them, considering what Wookiees've done to them before. Besides, they didn't really like me much in the beginning either." He paused and waited; Chewbacca still seemed indecisive, though Han could clearly see the longing in those blue eyes as they gazed upon the _Celtic_.

"Well, come on then," Han said, and started up the ramp. Moments later, he felt the soft vibrating impacts as the Wookiee obediently followed, ducking low to avoid hitting his head as he entered the ship.

Han immediately led him down the corridor toward the cockpit. On the way he passed the passenger bay, and saw that Codi was already asleep in Leena's lap. Tootcha was smoking his water-pipe quietly in the corner; Roon was nowhere to be found, though Han heard a distant crash from the general direction of the Sutti-Cha's room.

There wasn't much choice then. Turning, the young Corellian entered the cockpit, sliding slowly, hesitantly into the pilot's chair. Everin's spirit seemed to sing to him from the worn leather, and for a moment he had a brief glimpse of the smiling face, the cheerful blue eyes, but then that faded away.

Taking a deep breath, Han reached forward and began flipping switches and pressing buttons, watching quietly, passively as the _Celtic_ came to life beneath his fingers.

There came a low creak and the ship rocked just slightly as Chewbacca suddenly settled into the co-pilot's seat. Han turned, blinking. "Hey, wait a minute, you can't…"

But Chewbacca ignored him, reaching up to turn on the primary and auxiliary thrusters, turning knobs and pressing buttons to retract the ship's landing gear. When he noticed Han gawking at him, the Wookiee flashed him a toothy grin as if to say, "What, never seen an eight-foot-tall teddy bear fly a ship before?"

Han stared for a moment longer, then finally smiled, turning to look up at the night sky above them, speckled with promising stars. "You think Everin's up there somewhere, lookin' down at us?" he asked suddenly.

Chewbacca turned and growled. Han sighed. "I hope you're right," he said. "But I get the feeling that there's a whole new life for us out there. Somewhere, on one of those stars, we're going to become great."

The Wookiee barked briefly, huge paw perched on the ship's throttle, and Han shook himself, bringing his mind back to the matter at hand. "Right then," he said. "Punch it. We're getting out of here."

Chewbacca obeyed, and as the _Celtic_ rose from her rocky nest and shot off into the sky, Han leaned back and watched the sky approach. "So many stars," he murmured, almost to himself, and then he smiled. "Let's make the old man proud, and catch a few of 'em. Eh, Chewie?"

The indignant bark never came; instead, only a low, affectionate rumble as the _Celtic_ disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Twenty-five years later, everything was different.

Seated lightly on the edge of the railing that ended the balcony of his house, Han Solo felt old for the first time in his life.

The house was small, far smaller than would be expected of the dwelling of two of the galaxy's greatest heroes. Yet it radiated an aura of beauty, of fire, as if challenging others not to judge by size alone. Much like the Alliance had done, so many years before.

Shouting and yelling reached his ears, and the retired smuggler, one-time pirate, and savior of the galaxy—what a title to carry—looked down to smile at his two sons, who were currently bickering over a toy blaster. They were the loves of his life, second only perhaps to one other.

That other chose that moment to come up behind him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders and pecking him on the cheek. Leia Skywalker Solo (you could kick an Organa in there if you felt like it, she wouldn't have stopped you) seemed to have grown only more beautiful with age. Her dark brown hair was now beginning to show the slightest streaks of gray, and her girlish face had matured into a wiser, more womanly visage, but her eyes still shone with the same rebellious fire Han had first witnessed when she had stepped out of the holding cell on board the first Death Star, so very long ago.

Leia smiled softly, working her nimble fingers in slow circles over the muscles of Han's shoulders. "You're a little tense," she said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really," Han said, but after a few moments of silence, he sighed. "Just thinking of old times."

His wife nodded. "With Luke and the others?"

Han smiled softly and shook his head. Those were good times, yes, but they weren't what he was talking about. "No. Before that. Way before."

"Oh? Well, this should be interesting."

"Not today, Leia."

She blinked. "Why not?"

Han sighed again; he guessed his age really was catching up to him. "Not ready yet. Just be a little patient, okay?"

"Of course," Leia answered, kissing him softly. "For you."

The Corellian smiled; that was why he loved this woman so much, because she understood him so well.

Raising his head, he looked up at the blanket of stars above them, and thought briefly of the _Celtic_ and her crew, all of them his closest friends, all of them people he had loved. Some of them were dead now—like Roon, who had been sent to a labor camp and had slaved away to his death; or Tootcha, who had joined the Rebellion and been killed in an early dogfight with Imperial TIE fighters.

There were others who had survived, though, and who lived still: Leena and Codi, who were now seeing their own children off to the Academy to become pilots—and possibly pirates—themselves. And, of course, Han and Chewie. The Corellian thought briefly of Everin, and knew that the old pirate would've been proud of their achievements.

_Saved the galaxy, eh?_ He could almost hear Everin saying, chuckling. _Now _that's_ what I call a Corellian job!_

Of course, there were others now too. Like Luke Skywalker, for example, who had set up a small and simple Jedi academy in the isolation of Tatooine, his home planet, and was training the next generation of brave warriors. Like Lando Calrissian, who was currently a Senator of the New Republic, just as Leia was.

Like Chewbacca, Han's longtime—and for a while there, only—friend who had been with him through the loss of the _Celtic_, the scattering of her crew, the conning—though Han would insist the deal had been fair—of the _Millenium Falcon_, and the adventures resulting from when they had decided to pick up a young farmboy and an old wizard in a cantina in Mos Eisley. Chewie had moved to his home planet of Kashyyyk about five years ago, and was raising his own family there. He was trying to teach his children to speak the common human tongue, and during one of his daily holo-communications with his old friend, the Wookiee had proudly brought his son forward to say "Hello, Han Solo," only to have the Corellian break into a fit of laughter at the gruff, barely-understandable garble of words.

And as for Han himself? Well, he was pretty happy with the way his life was going at the moment. He had a beautiful wife, two wonderful sons—it was fun watching them bicker, reminded him of his own childhood days—and his name was spoken throughout the galaxy not with fear but with respect and admiration. The _Millenium Falcon_ had been given—_loaned_, Han would insist—to Lando as his personal transport, and Han was confident that his beloved ship was in good hands.

All in all, then, not a bad outcome for a poor orphan who had grown up in the slums of Venor. Somewhere out there, Han knew, Everin Solo was beaming with pride.

Leia straightened, leaning slightly over the balcony railing to look down at the two quarreling children. "Boys!" she called, causing them both to pause and look up. "Time for dinner!" With a last smile at her husband, she turned and sauntered back into the warmth of the house.

Grinning softly, Han followed her. He descended the stairs just in time to meet his two sons coming in through the front door. The younger of the two, barely six years old, who was still trying to pry the toy blaster out of his brother's uncooperative grip, immediately turned to him for help.

"Dad," he whined, "Everin says the blaster is his, but I saw it first!"

Everin scowled. "Luke's a liar," he said.

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are t—hey! Dad!"

"Dad!"

"C'mon, kids," Han said, grinning as he dangled the toy blaster out of his sons' reach. "Your father's got a brilliant idea to solve this."

Both boys brightened at that, looking up at him expectantly. Han's smile widened. "I'll just take my _real_ blaster here"—he tapped the weapon holstered at his hip—"and blow the toy into two pieces. Then you can both have a piece. How's that?"

The horrified looks turned his way made him laugh outright. "Kidding, kidding," he said, then thought for a moment before unsnapping his blaster and turning it completely off. It wouldn't operate again without his voice activation key.

"There now," he said, handing the toy to Everin and his inert blaster to Luke. "One for each of you. Better?"

"Thanks!" both boys cried as they headed off to the dining room, where Leia was patiently waiting, a smile on her face.

Han sighed, turning to look out the window at the dark sky above. "Thanks, old man," he whispered, then turned and headed toward the dining room, glowing with warmth, happiness, and endless love.


End file.
